It’s true that I frequent Caprice in Camps Bay more than the average person. Circumstances have allowed Caprice to be the nearest cocktail bar / restaurant to my place of residence. You see, God has blessed me – and I will shamelessly punt Caprice until I can punt no more. This is not the first time, nor is it the last time.

Cappers

I must make mention of the fact that I am in a semi emotional mood at the moment as I have set the iPod to play Bilitis by Francis Lai. If you don’t know it, it is QUITE moving. My folks played it since before I could walk.

I’m back on the scotch now. Ok. Caprice.

I’ll start by saying that many people don’t know that Caprice is not all about Sunday nights. Granted, Sunday nights is, was and always will be their signature night – but don’t knock a breakfast, lunch or early evening drink any time of the week. It’s not all about the mad party – Caprice is also tailor made for chilling out. Caprice is perfect for every mood. Great for Saturday morning breakfasts. If you’re hungover or not in the mood, they understand. You can’t be in your underwear on the bar counter every night of the week. If you want attention, they give it and they understand your insecurities. They are like you. They understand you. In fact, I’ll tell you what…. Fuck Spur, Caprice has a taste for life.

And last night was no exception. Caprice owner, David Raad, deserves a gold medal. Not only is Dave an accomplished closet break dancer (previous article mentioning his skillz can be found here), but also a true embodiment of service. So last night was a Camel party at Cappers. Wow! I’ll say one thing, the angels came out VERY nicely last night. A VERY naughty mid-week party! I see the two blondes who seem to be joined at the hip were there again – the last of the Mohican’s – waiting for their ride to come through town. Don’t worry girls, he’ll come. All over your face, in the back of his laundered Lambo.

More scotch.

So last night was a haven of excitement. All the guests were given “dollars”. Each one equated to 10 South African Rands. Because I felt I was far too important to stop at the front door to sign in, I did not receive my dollars. I sent a sms to Dave who appeared next to me at the bar, stuffing dollars into my jeans and introducing five blondes to me whilst the bar lady had already begun pouring ten tequila’s in front of us – all at the same time. Dave told the girls they should thank me. For what? God only knows. The point is Dave is a fucking legend and he runs a good show. Blues restaurant could learn a thing or two from one of Dave’s farts. Caprice is the institution Blues was in the 80’s.

Even more brilliant was a facility for the partygoers (first time I’ve ever used that word ‘partygoers’ – feels weird) to go up and have their picture taken. There was basically a full on developing service on the premises and each photographed patron would get an A4 print of themselves on the cover of a magazine! But the mind blowing thing was not that. No, no. What really struck me was the name of the magazine was ‘2oceansvibe’.

Nothing short of hilarious.

So that’s what this article is all about, really. Cappers. Ignore the idiots. Enjoy yourself. Look around, you’re in a good place. The staff are hysterical. Someone for everyone. The moaners, the groaners, the happy-go-luckies, the hungovers, the perky, the smiley, the sad, the positive, the negative, the bitch, the model, the cow, the youngster, the hippie – they have them all, and we love them all.

God bless you, Caprice.